tires of the still-moving vehicle as if he were going to tear them apart.
Christ! How had the dog done it? That stone wall had to be at least six feet tall, and it hadn’t slowed him down one damn bit. Carlisle knew that if he tried approaching the house on foot, the dog would have him for lunch, so the problem was finding a way to get the poison to the dog without losing either an arm or a leg in the process.
Through binoculars trained on the household below, Carlisle saw the woman hustle the dog inside while a man, who appeared to be a priest, got out of the car and started for the house. The man went in the front door, while the dog and the child came out through the back. The boy left the dog pacing in unhappy circles on the rear patio. Clearly, the dog wanted in. If he was generally an inside dog, it wouldn’t be long before someone relented. Carlisle realized he would have to act quickly.
Carlisle’s first problem was to lure the dog out of the fenced backyard. Having witnessed the frenzied attack on the Buick, that didn’t seem difficult. Carlisle figured just showing his face would be enough to provoke the dog into another battle. The trick was maintaining enough of a safety margin to make escape possible.
Carlisle hiked back down to the Matador and drove as near the house as he dared, stopping just beyond a sharp curve that concealed the car from anyone inside the house. After turning the car around so it faced back in the opposite direction, Carlisle took the slug-bait-laced meat with him and walked to the middle of the roadway. First he dropped chunks of meat in a wide pattern over the pavement; then, lying down flat on the rocky shoulder, he whistled one short, sharp burst.
At once, the dog responded with a fit of barking. Carlisle whistled again, and the dog barked again. Someone came to the back door. Diana herself emerged from the shadow of the patio and surveyed the area, using one hand to shade her eyes from the glare of the setting sun. Carlisle kept his head low to the ground and prayed that no other traffic would appear on the road.
Satisfied there was nothing amiss, Diana spoke to the dog. “Quiet, Bone. It’s all right. Be still.”
Carlisle heard her voice floating up to him from below. The very sound of it was enticing. Hearing her voice, combined with the knowledge that he was almost within touching distance of her, gave him an instant erection and made his breath come in short, harsh gasps. If you only knew, little lady, he thought, stifling an urge to laugh. The dog’s smarter than you are.
Below him, the sliding glass door slammed shut behind her as Diana Ladd returned to the house. For a moment, Carlisle was afraid she might have taken the dog with her. He breathed a sigh of relief when he peered over the bank and saw that the dog was still pacing restlessly in the yard below, still staring up in his direction. He whistled again.
“Come here, little doggie,” he whispered under his breath. “Nice little doggie. Come and get it.”
This time, the dog made no sound at all. He simply leapt over the wall and came crashing up the embankment.
Carlisle waited until the last possible moment before making his dash for safety. He had spread the meat over a wide segment of the roadway so the dog would be sure to find it. Now, he ran straight through the meat to his car so the dog-Bone was a funny name for a dog-following his scent, would be led directly to the poison.
Carlisle jumped into his Matador and drove away, hoping against hope that his plan had worked.
Davy and Father John were talking quietly at the kitchen table; Rita had returned to her room. After cleaning the kitchen, Diana had barely started reading the newspaper in the living room when the dog whined and scratched at the front door.
“How did Bone get back out front?” Diana asked irritably as she hurried to let him in. She was worried that he might make a dash for the kitchen and scare Father John. Instead, the dog plodded in slowly, shambled past her without even looking up, and walked directly into the opposite wall with a resounding thump.
“Oh’o,” she said, alarmed, “what’s the matter with you?”
Bone stood splayfooted, long tail tucked between his legs, head down. He swayed drunkenly. Davy, hearing the concern in Diana’s voice, called from the kitchen. “Mom, what is it?”
“I don’t know. Something’s wrong with Bone. I let him inside, and he walked straight into the wall.”
Davy hurried into the room followed by a still-apprehensive Father John. The dog, who had once seemed so ferocious, now showed absolutely no interest in attacking the priest. Instead, he put one tentative foot in front of the other and tried to walk, only to fall down flat on his belly.
“That dog’s been poisoned!” Father John announced decisively. “I’ve seen it before. We’ve got to get him to a vet.”
“Poisoned?” Diana repeated. “How can that be?”
“Look at him. I had a dog die of poisoning once. He came inside acting just like this. The vet said that if I’d brought him in right away, he might have saved him. There’s no time to lose.”
Uncertain what to do, Diana glanced at her watch. A quarter to six. The vet’s office would close in fifteen minutes. Rita reappeared just then. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“It’s Oh’o. Father John thinks he’s been poisoned. We’d better load him in the car. Davy, Rita, come on. We’ll all go.”
Rita shook her head. “Fat Crack will be here soon. You go on. If we all go, Davy and I will just be in the way. We’ll wait here. I’ll call Dr. Johnston and tell him you’re coming.”
On the floor between them, Bone’s body shook convulsively. One look at the suffering animal convinced her. “All right,” Diana said. “You stay here.”
Diana knelt beside the quaking dog. “Bone, come,” she ordered. With a whimper, the dog tried valiantly to get up, only to stumble and collapse once more. Diana attempted to pick him up by herself, but he was well over one hundred pounds of dog, far more than she could lift or carry.
“Father John, would you help me load him into the car?”
“Of course.”
Lifting together, they raised Bone off the floor and carried him outside. “My car’s out back,” Diana said, heading that way.